Alyson Winchester: Unconnected Drabbles
by WaywardDaughter18
Summary: A series of unconnected drabbles about Alyson when she is 3 and 4 years old. Aly plays with her brothers, fights going to bed, and gets in trouble a couple times. Humor, fluff, tears, swats, and a little bit of language. Contains spanking; If You Don't Like It, Don't Read It. Same AU as "The Adventures of Alyson Winchester".


SUMMARY: A series of unconnected drabbles about Aly when she is 3 and 4 years old. Aly plays with her brothers, fights going to bed, and gets in trouble a couple times. Humor, fluff, tears, swats, and a little bit of language.

Contains spanking; If You Don't Like It, Don't Read It. Same AU as "The Adventures of Alyson Winchester".

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello Dear Readers! If this is your first time reading one of my fanfics, please check out my profile for more stories with Alyson Winchester. The main story is called 'The Adventures of Alyson Winchester', and there is now a sequel called 'Winchester Interrupted: The Further Adventures of Alyson Winchester'. There are also several one-shots about Aly at different ages. I hope you enjoy them- please leave me a review and let me know what you like!**

Aly: 3 or 4 years old; Sam: 11 or 12 years old; Dean: 15 or 16 years old

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"I'm going to get yooooou," Sam called in a sing-song voice. Aly had been jumping on the sofa and Dean was worried that she would break it, because it was a rickety old thing, and neither boy wanted to get into trouble with their Dad if it did get broken. So they had convinced Aly to play Hide-and Seek.

Sam heard Aly giggling as he walked into the living room. He bent down and grabbed her and she squeaked in surprise.

"Found you!" he said, pulling her out from under the coffee table. He stood up, holding her, and tickled her side and her neck. She squealed and wriggled in his arms.

"No more tickles, Sammy!" she gasped.

Dean came into the living room.

"Hey Dean, catch!" Sam swung Aly and pretended to throw her and she shrieked and then giggled again.

Dean walked over to Sam and said, "Give her to me."

Dean grabbed her and turned her upside down, intending to tickle her little bare feet, but she was twisting and writhing too much.

"Deeeeean!" she squealed. She swung her torso forward and then back quickly, the back of her head connecting hard, right with Dean's crotch.

"Oof!" he said, and his face got red. He almost dropped her. Sam grabbed her as Dean went down, sitting down hard on the floor, curling up in a ball against the pain.

"Sowwy, Dean!" Aly began to cry when she saw the pained look on Dean's red face.

She struggled in Sam's arms and he went down on one knee next to Dean. "You okay?" he asked with concern. He let Aly go.

Dean took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, just gimme a minute," he said.

Aly put her hand on his knee. "Did I hurted your boy parts?" she asked him.

Dean glanced at her and nodded, embarrassed.

"I sowwy De," she said again. "D'you wan' me to kiss an' make it bettuh?"

His head came up quickly. _"No!"_ he said.

She blinked at his sharp response, and tears came to her eyes again.

"No, I'll be fine," he said, and put his hand on her head. "Don't cry, it was an accident." She gave him a hug.

Dean looked at Sam and said, "I guess this is why Dad always says don't get her riled up at bedtime."

"I don't _wanna_ go to bed!" Aly said, pulling away from Dean. "Can't I stay up wif you? _Pweeeeease?"_ She gave Sam her best puppy-dog eyes and he laughed and tousled her hair.

"Sure, for a little while," Dean said. "Let's calm down a little though, huh?'

Their dad was away on a case and it was the summertime and the weekend, so they let Aly stay up late with them.

Forty minutes later, Aly had fallen asleep slumped over on the sofa between her brothers, despite the loud sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from the t.v. Sam glanced down at her, and then said to Dean, "She's completely out."

Dean picked up the bowl that was in her lap, and placed it on the other side of him. He picked up all the stray bits of popcorn that were dotted across her nightgown, and put them in the bowl. Then he slid his arms behind her neck and knees and lifted her up. Sam followed him as he walked to her bedroom, and Sam pulled the covers of Aly's bed down so that Dean could gently lay her down. Dean pulled the covers up to Aly's chin, and she sighed deeply and turned on her side. Her eyes opened slightly and she looked up at him.

"Shh, sleep," he whispered, and her eyes closed again. Her thumb found its way into her mouth, and she rolled onto her stomach.

~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~

Aly loved her family. She loved her Daddy and her brothers and her Uncle Bobby and even her preschool teachers, Miss Kelly and Miss Julie and Miss Jenn. She tried hard to be a good girl, and she loved it when someone told her that she was a good girl...and she tried to behave so that they would tell her that. Sometimes, she didn't, though, and sometimes she just couldn't. And then she would get into trouble. She didn't like getting in trouble, but sometimes it just happened.

Daddy was a hunter. And he was teaching her big brothers Dean and Sam to be hunters too. That meant that they had to go out to the woods, and she had to sit either in the car, or on a bench, with a coloring book and her box of crayons, and color, or play with some toys that she had brought.

Sometimes Daddy made them walk through the woods, and he would explain things to them about the different kinds of plants that were there, or teach them about how to tell if someone or something had walked there before them. You could tell if someone had walked through because of how branches were broken and leaves were crushed, and you could tell if an animal had been eating leaves because of the marks on the leaves and branches. She listened sometimes but then she would get bored. And then one of her brothers would swing her up onto their hip and carry her, or give her a piggyback ride for a while. She tried hard to be quiet, because when Daddy was talking to them he got very serious and didn't like to be interrupted. He would get annoyed or even angry if she started to ask questions or talk or complain.

She didn't like it when Daddy got angry, and she most of all didn't like it when Daddy got angry at _her_. So she tried really hard to do exactly what he wanted. If he told her to sit on a bench and stay there, she sat. When he told her it was time to get ready for bed, she obeyed, even if she was in the middle of watching one of her shows or playing with something. She tried not to complain or argue because Daddy didn't like that. Her brother Sam argued with Daddy sometimes and it always scared her. Daddy's face would get angry looking and his eyebrows would come down in a frown and his jaw would get tight. And Sam would get angry too but his face looked different. And their voices would get loud, and then they would start talking in clipped tones, and then it would change to yelling, and that's when she would get very scared. She tried not to cry but sometimes she couldn't help it. Then Sam would sigh and stop arguing with Daddy and reach for her, to give her a hug. But sometimes Sam kept arguing and yelling, and then Dean would have to get between him and Daddy, and talk to them to calm down. Or he would pick her up and comfort her.

When the boys were at school, it was just her and Daddy for part of the day. She had preschool, but it was a shorter day than her brothers, so she was home more. And sometimes she had to take a nap, which she hated, but she knew that Daddy didn't like it when she fussed about it, so she tried really hard not to. Sometimes, though, she couldn't help herself no matter what she did.

It was one of those days today. Daddy was in that place where he was very focused on something. Today it was cleaning the weapons. She had strict orders to not touch anything when he had them all laid out on the table. An order was when Daddy told you to do something. Not following an order meant that you got in trouble. Sometimes not following orders meant that you got a spanking, too, and she didn't like that. She didn't like hearing when her brothers got spanked and she didn't like it when Daddy spanked her either. Daddy had given her a couple of swats only a few times, but she didn't like it at all, and she had cried and cried after he let her go.

She didn't like when he was cleaning weapons because the oil smelled funny and the guns scared her because she knew they were loud. Daddy and Dean had told her that they could hurt you and kill you dead, too, so she was never ever to touch a gun ever ever. Daddy had said if she fooled around with a gun she wouldn't sit for a week. She didn't know how or why she wouldn't be able to sit, but it didn't sound fun.

Daddy had other weapons out today, and he was sharpening some knives. He had a long thin stick that he would rub the knife against, and she liked the raspy sound it made. So she sat on the sofa, across from the coffeetable where he had everything laid out, and listened to the sound of him sharpening the knives.

One of the knives caught her eye- its blade was wide, and very shiny, and the tip had a couple of little notches in it. The handle was shiny and dark and Daddy had said it was made of an antler of some kind, which she thought was neat. She watched as Daddy drew the blade up the sharpening tool and listened to the scraping sound. The shiny blade flashed in the light. She wanted to touch it, just once, because it was so pretty. It flashed like the diamonds she had seen a lady wearing on t.v. when they had been watching a show with lots of people dressed very fancy.

Daddy's phone rang, and he put the blade and sharpener down on the table. He glanced at her as he answered his phone, and then stood up and walked into the kitchen. That meant that he wanted to have a private conversation, and private meant that you were alone. So she couldn't walk in there and climb onto his lap to sit with him, or go on and ask him for some juice.

Aly sat and looked at the table with all the weapons on it. It seemed like the blade was just calling to her. She knew she wasn't supposed to touch anything, Daddy had told her and told her that, and her brothers had too. But the blade of the knife was so long, and perfect, and shiny, she just wanted to touch it. She got off of the sofa and walked over to the table. She stood there for a long moment, looking at everything. She could hear Daddy's voice as he talked in the kitchen. She looked down at the knife, and it was so pretty, she just _had_ to touch it- to see-

Aly reached down and put her hand on the smooth blade. It was hard and cold. For some reason she had thought it would be warm. She ran her finger along the shininess, feeling how soft and smooth it was, and then she reached for the handle to pick it up. The brown and cream colored handle was shiny too but in a different way. Her hand closed around the handle and she started to lift it up-

"ALYSON ELISABETH WINCHESTER WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

Uh-oh, Daddy had said her full name. That was _not_ a good sign. She pulled her hand away with a gasp, as if it had burned her, startling at her Daddy's yell, suddenly remembering all of Daddy's warnings about not touching a weapon, _EVER._

"What- are you hurt?" Daddy had quickly walked over to her.

She looked up at him. "N-no, Daddy."

He put his hands on his hips. "What did I tell you, little girl?" he asked, and his voice was deep. That was _also_ not a good sign. Daddy had a deep voice, and it got deeper the more angry he was.

Her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn't answer him. "Uh-" she said.

"Are you _supposed_ to be touching a weapon?"

"Uh—n-no, Daddy," she said again.

"Then _what_ were you _doing?"_ He loomed over her, and his eyebrows were together in that face he made before he got really angry.

"I—I- it's- it's so- shiny," she said, stumbling over the words, trying to explain.

"Come here," he reached for her and took her wrist, and led her over to the sofa. He sat down and stood her in front of him. "Young lady, I have told you _repeatedly_ that you are not to touch or play with a weapon, _ever._ I have given you an _order_ not to touch _anything_ that comes out of any of those duffles. And you have _disobeyed_ an _order._ So I am going to give you a spanking."

He reached for her, putting his hands around her waist, and laid her face-down over his lap. Aly got scared just then- she had seen Daddy pull Sam over his lap just like this, and then Sam had gotten lots of swats in a row, and he had cried. She had never been in this position or gotten lots of swats like that.

"Da- ddy!" she protested, and tried to push up on his leg. She felt his hand on her back, pushing her down over his lap, and then he spanked her bottom for the first time. She gasped from the surprise and the pain of it. His hand came down on her bottom again and she cried out, and then his hand smacked her again and she began to cry and said, "Ow! Daddy, no!" His hand fell again and then again, and she struggled, wriggling her little body to try and get away from his hand.

Usually when Daddy spanked her, he gave her a couple of swats and then let her go. He should be letting her up by now, but he wasn't. She was crying, and her bottom was stinging.

"Alyson, you disobeyed a direct order. You touched a knife, which is _very_ dangerous, and I have to make _sure_ that you understand that you _do not disobey me_ when I give you an order, and that you do _not_ do things that are _dangerous."_

"Daddy I'm sowwy," she sniffled. She knew that when you got in trouble and were scolded, that you were supposed to say you were sorry, and then you would get a hug or a pat on the head and everything would be okay again.

Daddy lifted the hem of her dress up and put it on her lower back, and she felt his hand pressing down on her back again to keep her there. Then she felt him pulling her underpants down! She tried to wriggle off of his lap and kicked her feet a little, in protest.

"Daddy what're you doin'?" she squeaked, getting more scared.

His hand spanked her bare bottom and she gasped again and then yelled out, because it hurt a lot lot more!

She wailed, "Dada nooo! Owww Dada I sowwyyyyy!" and then shrieked as his hard hand fell again and again. He only spanked her a few more times but it was enough, it hurt like her bottom was on fire and she was kicking her legs and sobbing loudly by the time he laid the last swat down.

She felt him pulling her underpants back up, and he put her dress down, and then he was lifting her up in his arms, and he held her against his chest. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his flannel shirt and bawled.

"I don't _ever_ want to see you touching another weapon like that _ever again_ , do you understand?" he asked sternly.

"Y-yes Dada I, I, I sow-wyy!" she heaved out between sobs.

He looked down at her. "You're going to obey me and follow my orders?"

"Y-yes D-Daddy," she repeated.

He held her with one arm under her bottom and the other hand pressed her to him in a hug. Then he rubbed the back of her head as her breathing started to calm.

"I know you can be my good girl," he said gently.

She pulled her head back and looked up at him, her eyes swollen with tears. "I you good giwl?" she asked, and her chest hitched once.

"Yes, you listen to me and do what I tell you and you'll be my good girl," he told her.

"I- I wissen to you, Daddy, an 'bey you, I- I pwuh-pwomise."

"Good girl," he said, and he kissed the top of her head. She sniffled and laid her head on his chest.

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"NO! I _not_ go seep, I not _tie-uhd!"_ Aly's little legs kicked at the sheet as John pulled it up to tuck her in, and her feet caught in it and ripped it out of his hands.

He put his hands on his hips and looked down at her with exasperation.

"Aly, it's time for bed," he said in a serious voice. He leaned forward and picked up the sheet, and she grabbed at it.

"No! No tut me in!" He had told her that once she was tucked in bed, she was not to get out again for anything. She had gotten into the habit of getting out of bed several times after he had put her to bed, and they were all excuses to put off the inevitable, which was her going to sleep.

"Let go," he said, pulling on the sheet. "Alyson, did you hear me?" He allowed a bit of stern-ness to creep into his voice. He had to be careful with her, she was very sensitive and would respond to any stern-ness or anger with tears.

"Noooo!" she whined. "Don't _wanna_ go bed!"

He had managed to pry the sheet out of her little fists, and he pulled it back from her. "What you want is irrelevant, young lady."

A frown creased her forehead. "Huh?" She looked up at him.

"It is time for bed, and _that_ is _that,"_ he told her firmly.

"But Dadaaaaaa-"

"Want some cheese with that whine?"

John turned to see Dean leaning on the door-frame, with a half-grin on his face.

"Dean! Come be wif me!" Aly held her arms up to her big brother, grateful for the distraction.

"I came in here to give you a good night hug, short stuff," he walked towards the bed.

"No goonight hug, jus' a hug!" She said.

Dean leaned down and hugged her. She put her arms around his neck.

"Good night, Aly."

She let go of him and pushed him away. "No! No goonight! I no hug you den!" She folded her arms and looked up at him with a pout on her face.

Dean straightened up and laughed. "Where did you get _that_ face?"

She frowned at him. "No waff at me, Dean!"

"I can't help it, you're just _so_ cute!" he reached down and pinched her cheek gently.

"No I not!"

"I know one thing you are," he told her.

She stopped frowning and looked up at him curiously. "What?"

"Ticklish!" he reached down and tickled the sides of her neck, and she scrunched her shoulders up and giggled, kicking her feet. "No! No tickle!"

"All right, let's not get rowdy," John intervened before things went too far. "Dean, how many times do I have to tell you, no horseplay with her before bed?"

"Well, this isn't horse-play, it's Aly-play," Dean grinned at him, and John swatted his butt.

"Get outta here, you brat," John couldn't help but grin back.

"Good night, Aly," Dean called as he walked out of the room.

"Goonight, bwat!" Aly called, giggling.

John turned his attention to Aly. "Are you ready to settle down now and get to sleep?"

"Okay, Dada," Dean coming in the room had put her in a good mood, and she laid down and allowed John to pull the covers up.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You're going to stay in bed," he said, as a reminder.

"Oh-kaaay," she said in a defeated tone.

"Good girl. Sweet dreams, pumpkin."

"Night-night, Dada."

John went to the kitchen and got out a beer, and then settled on the sofa to see if there was a baseball game on t.v.

The front door opened and Sam came into the living room. His damp hair clung to his face and there were circles of sweat underneath his armpits.

"Good game, Sammy?" John asked.

Sam had been playing street soccer with some of the neighborhood kids.

"Yeah," he said. "Matt told me that they have soccer here, sign ups are in a couple weeks. Can I try it, Dad?"

"We'll see," John took a drink of his beer. He didn't want to commit to anything in case they had to leave suddenly.

They heard a thud as little feet hit the floor in another room, and then little footsteps padding up the hall.

Aly came running towards her brother, arms up. "Sammy!" she crowed happily. He bent down and hugged her. She pulled away from him after a moment.

"You wet!" she told him, and her nose wrinkled. "An' you _stink!"_

John tried not to laugh at the expression on her face. "All right, Sam, hit the shower, and Aly, are you supposed to be out here?"

She turned to look at him, and her face became guilty. "I hadda come see Sammy!"

"No, you didn't," He got up from the sofa and walked towards her. "Sam could have come in to your room to see you, and you didn't let him. You just wanted to get out of bed," He leaned down to her and looked at her face. "If you get out of bed again, I will spank your bottom. Is that what you want?"

Her lower lip poked out in a pout. "No, Dada."

"Then get back to bed. And stay there," He pointed down the hall.

She turned and walked back to her room, her shoulders slumped and head down. John walked back over to the sofa, shaking his head. He didn't want to swat his baby girl, but she was pushing it. He had let her behavior go for too long, and the 'Terrible Twos' had given way to the 'Terrible Threes.' She was testing more and more, which he knew was normal, but his indulgence with her was now paving the way for open defiance, and John Winchester did not take kindly to his children being defiant with him.

He sat back on the sofa and put his feet up in the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles, and took a long pull of his beer. If Mary was here she would have frowned at his feet on the table, but it had been a hard habit for him to break when she was alive, and he had fallen back into his old ways in the couple of years since she had passed.

A few minutes later he heard sirens in the distance. They came closer, and he heard the roar of the engines as the fire trucks drove past the house. There were at least two, and the last one honked loudly as it drove by.

And then he heard it- the familiar sound of little feet padding up the hallway. John sighed and leaned forward, putting his beer in the table.

Aly trotted into the living room, her eyes wide, and her finger up at her mouth.

"Fie-uh twucks, Dada!" she said worriedly. She always acted like the noise scared her, and he wondered if she didn't have some vestigial memory of the night of the fire tucked away in her unconscious. He knew that was highly unlikely, the current theory on memories was that they weren't formed until the child started to talk, which was why no one remembered being an infant.

"Yes, I heard them, and are you supposed to be out of bed?" He put his hands on his knees and gave her what he hoped was a stern look.

"No," she whispered.

He was inclined to let this go, after all, she hadn't gotten out of bed to be naughty, but because the fire trucks made her uncomfortable and she was looking for reassurance. In the back of his mind, he told himself that he _shouldn't_ let it go, though, because then she would see it as him not keeping his word and think that she could get away with more next time.

He sighed. "Go back to bed, and do _NOT_ get up again. If you keep this up, I'm going to start putting you to bed earlier in the evening."

Instead of looking chastened, like he expected her to, she crossed her arms, and said loudly, _"NO_! I _not_ go bed ear-wee!" She stomped her foot and gave him a defiant look.

He stood up and walked around the table, his annoyance giving way to anger. Who did this little three year old think she was that she could stomp her foot and tell John Winchester no?

He walked over to her and leaned down. "You do _not_ tell me no, young lady!" he said sternly. "I am your father and you will do what I tell you to do!" He took her arm and turned her to the side, and lightly swatted her bottom once. She was wearing a sleep diaper, so her butt had padding on it, and she probably barely felt it. He turned her back to face him. "You get out of that bed again, and you'll get more than one swat, you hear me?"

Her chin trembled and then tears started to pour down her face. "Sowwy Dada!" she wailed. He sighed again and picked her up, and she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He carried her into her room, figuring that the tears were partly because she _was_ actually tired and fighting sleep.

He stood by her bed and rubbed her back, shushing her with comforting words as her sobs subsided to sniffles.

"All right, you ready to go to sleep now?" he asked gently. She nodded her head. He laid her down in bed again and used the tail of his flannel shirt to wipe the tears off of her face. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead. Her eyes had that faraway look in them that told him that sleep was not that far off.

"Close your eyes now, baby girl," he told her.

" 'Kay Dada," she murmured, turning on to her side. Her thumb found its way into her mouth, and she said, "Wove you Dada," closing her eyes.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. "Love you back, Aly." he told her with a smile.

~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~

Because Aly has not taken a nap in 3 days, it has finally caught up with her, and by dinner time she is getting cranky. Sam and Dean start their usual routine of goofing around with each other and her.

"Sammy will you pway Go Fisses wif me?" she asks. She has just learned how to play the card game "Go Fish" at Preschool, and it is her current favorite thing to do.

"No, but I _will_ play 'It's Time to Tickle Aly'.," Sam picks her up and starts tickling her. She starts to giggle and squirm in his arms. "I'm gonna tickle you back!" she says.

"I'd like to see you try, squirt," He holds both of her tiny hands in his huge hand and tickles her neck. "Aaahh!" she shrieks. "Sam! No more!"

Dean walks in the room and she calls, "Dean, help me!"

He walks over to them. "Tickle you? Okay," He grabs one of her feet and starts tickling her.

She starts kicking and shrieking even louder. "Lemme go! Lemme goooo!"

"Settle down, you three, " John calls from the kitchen. "Spaghetti in about 10 minutes."

Dean lets Aly's foot go and Sam puts her down on the ground.

"Pway Go Fisses wif me, pweeeeease?" she begs.

"Not right now, it's almost dinnertime," Dean tells her.

"Afta dinner?"

"We'll see," Sam says.

"Dat means no! Why don't you nevah pway wif me?" Aly stomps her foot and folds her arms.

"I'm going out tonight," Dean says. "Got a hot date."

"You _aw-ways_ goin' out! Sammy pway wif me den!"

"I said we'll see."

She screams, "I WAN' YOU TO PWAY GO FISSES WIF ME!" at the top of her lungs and stomps her foot again.

Both boys stop and stare at the outburst. She has never screamed at anyone like that before.

"If you're going to scream at me like that, then the answer is no," Sam says.

Aly starts to cry angrily. "You _nevah_ pway wif me no more. You're a _DICK!"_

Both boys start to laugh and then quickly stifle their laughter, hoping their father didn't hear. No such luck, John comes into the living room, holding a wooden spoon that has steam rising from it.

"Alyson Elisabeth, what is with the screaming? And _what_ did I just hear you _say?"_ he asks sternly, frowning at her.

"Sammy's bein' a _dick_!" she says angrily, her little fists clenched at her sides.

"Alyson, that is _not_ an appropriate word you for to be saying. I don't want to hear it come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?" The corners of his mouth twitch.

"Yes Daddy." She is contrite.

"Where did you hear it?"

Her head goes down. She glances to the side. This is her tell; she is going to lie. She is _not_ a good liar.

"Dunno," she mumbles.

"Oh, I think you do," he says. And he knows too, she probably heard it from the mouth of his eldest. He waits a beat.

"Young lady, I expect an answer."

She glances quickly at Dean and that confirms his suspicions.

"De say it sometimes," she says in a whisper.

" I see. And I'm _sure_ he's told you not to repeat what he says, hasn't he?"

She nods.

"Then why are you saying it if you know it's a bad word?"

"'Cause I was- was mad," She bites her lip.

"That is unacceptable, young lady. You are _not_ allowed to use bad language, even if you get angry. Come here."

She trudges over to him with her head down and he swats her bottom once with his hand. He looks down at her. "Next time, it's going to be more than just a swat," he tells her. "Got it?"

She nods, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.

"I can't hear you, Alyson."

"Yes, Daddy," she says. "I sowwy." He leans down and gives her shoulders a quick hug.

John then walks over to Dean and cracks him across the butt with the wooden spoon he is holding.

"Ow!" Dean complains.

"I've told you before about watching your mouth around your sister. Do I need to tell you the same thing about getting more than a swat next time I hear bad language from you?"

"No sir, I'm sorry," Dean says, reaching back to rub his stinging butt.

"Come into the kitchen now and sit down for dinner," he tells them.


End file.
